Here Comes a Candle (6 page)

He had watched, with an intense personal interest, the winning way she dealt with the often crass interrogations of the people they met. Quite unaware of it herself, she had a gift for making friends. The crossest landlady seemed, somehow, to relent when confronted with this child
’
s gentleness.
“
Ladylike
”
was not a word much used in Boston, but whatever had happened to Kate Croston in the past, however she had come to marry a sergeant in the British Army, she was a lady, he thought, in the fullest sense. Watching her make friends with the hobbledehoy, mannerless children in the inns where they stayed, he found himself thinking:
“
She
’
ll do. She
’
ll do for Sarah.
”
At all events, he was committed. He must just go on hoping he was right
.

THREE

The spring was racing them as they traveled eastward. In Albany, grass on the hill below the town hall and chamber of representatives was vividly green, and here and there a tree was gay with new leaf. The sun shone brightly as they crossed the Hudson and turned into the long street that ran beside it, and Kate exclaimed with pleasure as she caught glimpses of the narrow streets and high, gable
-
ended Dutch houses of the old town.
“
It
’
s almost like home,
”
she said.

“
Your highest praise? You
’
re right, of course, though the influence here is Dutch rather than English. I remember thinking some of the streets in Amsterdam might have been taken bodily from here. Or—I suppose you would say—vice versa. Albany was Beverwyck when New York was New Amsterdam.
”
He was beginning to enjoy explaining things to this eager listener.
“
It
’
s one of the three oldest settlements in the Thirteen Colonies,
”
he told her.
“
Of course we Bostonians
think
we
’
re the oldest, but I
’
m not sure the Van Rensselaers would agree.
”

As usual, Kate was the only woman in the crowded dining room of Pride
’
s Hotel except for the landlady and her daughters, and, as usual, nobody took the slightest notice. Most of these fast-eating, slow-talking men were actually residents of Albany, who preferred to dine in the hotel.
“
They get the news here, of course,
”
Jonathan explained. Albany, he said, was in close, touch with New York since Mr. Fulton
’
s steamboat, the
Clermont,
had begun a regular service up and down the Hudson in 1807. And indeed the news room at Pride
’
s Hotel had Boston and New York newspapers only a few days old. Kate longed for a glimpse of these, but this, evidently, was something that an American lady was not expected to do. She had to be content with the dinner-table comments on the news.

It seemed to be gloomy enough from the American point of view. How odd, she thought, sawing away at a particularly tough bit of beefsteak, to find herself getting used to the American view of the war. A fat Dutchman who seemed, from his conversation, to be a fur dealer, had launched forth into a jeremiad about the state of the nation.
“
Terrible.
”
He filled his mouth with a huge bite of ham, chewed and swallowed it with formidable dispatch, and returned to his gloomy theme.
“
Boney
’
s beaten, by the sound of it. We could have told him to mind out for the Russian winter, if he
’
d asked us. They say he left his army to die in the snow and hurried back to Paris to get himself another one, but how long are the French going to stand for that, I ask you? And if they give in, what happens to us? Answer me that!
”
He addressed this to Jonathan, but did not wait for an answer.
“
And what does poor Jemmy Madison do? Does he build us a navy? Does he even prepare to defend Washington? And the British ships in Chesapeake Bay, too! No sirree, he summons an extra session of Congress and goes about to tax us out of existence. I tell you it
’
s more than a man can stand. Taxes on salt, on licenses, on spirits,, carriages, auctions, sugar refineries! There
’
s no end to it, sir!
”
He paused once more for a huge mouthful of hot bread.

This time, Jonathan took the chance to intervene.
“
Maybe it
’
s a good thing,
”
he said.
“
Maybe it will give the country the courage to turn against this lunatic war.
”

“
Ha!
”
The Dutchman pointed a dinner knife at
him.
“
You
’
re one of those Yankee Federalists, ain
’
t you? I did hear that your Governor Strong thinks Jemmy Madison
’
s been unfair to England and partial to France. O
’
course I
’
m just a businessman, and don
’
t reckon to understand these things, but that sounds mighty close to treachery to me. And your Josiah Quincy, too. Did you hear what he said?
”

“
No. What was that?
”

“
Bless me, if he didn
’
t up and say Lawrence
’
s sinking the
Peacock
was
‘
not becoming a moral and religious people.
’
What do you think of that, sir? One of our few victories in this war and he wants us to act ashamed of it!
It
’
s not the way they did in New York, I can tell you. I was down there on business when Lawrence got back in March, and, by cracky, he had a hero
’
s welcome. And quite right too. A few more like him and Chauncey—and a few more ships for them to captain—and things might look a shade better for us. You see, ma
’
am,
”
he turned to Kate,
“
we
’
ve proved over and over again, that man to man and ship to ship we can outshoot you British, yes, and outfight you, too.
”

What in the world could she say to that? Luckily he did not expect an answer, but had turned away already, to help himself lavishly to pie. Just the same, it was a relief to escape, as soon as she decently could, to the comparative solitude of the porch that overlooked the river Hudson.

“
I
’
m sorry about that.
”
Jonathan found her there a few minutes later.

“
It
’
s all right. I
’
ll get used to it. It
’
s only
...
you none of you understand: you talk as if it was all some kind of game. Not real; not real people, fighting, dying, drowning
...”
her voice rose dangerously and she steadied it with an effort.
“
I hope you never learn.
”

“
I hope we never need to.
”
His dry tone reminded her
of how much he disliked any display of emotion.
“
But the question now is, are you quite worn out? Should we rest here for a day?
”

Every bone in her body ached to say yes, but how could she?
“
Of course not. I know how you must long to be at home.
”

“
I shall be glad to get there certainly.
”
Once again his tone made her regret her proffered sympathy.
“
That
’
s fine then. I
’
ll go right out and order us an extra exclusive for tomorrow.
”

“
Extra exclusive?
”
Here was a phrase she had never heard before.

“
A coach to ourselves. It
’
s the quickest way of finishing the journey.
”

“
By ourselves?
”
She regretted it instantly.

“
Why not? You
’
re not in England now, Mrs. Croston. I remember how absurd I found it to see how your young women are hedged about with restrictions—as if they had no sense. We have more confidence in our girls here, I
’
m glad to say. But of course if you don
’
t like the idea—
”

What a genius he had for getting her, quite accidentally, on the raw. Did he really think she might be scared to travel alone with him, when he noticed her merely as a necessary piece, of extra baggage! She could not help an angry little laugh.
“
Nonsense, Mr. Penrose. I feel as safe with you as I would with my grandfather. But Mrs. Penrose—
”
She was remembering Janet Mason.

“
Arabella? She
’
ll think nothing of it. Why should she?
”
Why indeed? Why should not Jonathan Penrose, of Penrose, bring home the new nursemaid?

But he had moved toward the porch door.
“
That
’
s settled then. I
’
ll order the coach now and we
’
ll start first thing in the morning.
”

“
How much longer now?
”
Suddenly she wished this journey would go on forever.

“
Only two days, I hope. But we
’
ve no posting system here, as you have in England, so we
’
ll have to spare the horses.
”

“
Of course.
”
If not the passengers, she thought with a little spurt of anger.

The extra exclusive coach turned out to be merely a rather battered specimen of the usual boat-shaped type, with a surly driver who amazed Kate by
asking
no questions. But he
kn
ew his business, and took them up the winding, precipitous road over the Green Mountains without mishap. It was, to begin with, a silent enough drive. Pride
’
s Hotel, though more luxurious than the little inns where they had stayed before, had also been a great deal noisier. All night, it seemed to Kate, bells had been ringing, parties coming and going, horses whinnying and harness jingling in the yard below her bedroom window. This on top of the cumulative fatigue of the journey left her, this morning, almost beyond speech, her eyelids graveled with sleep, the mere action of sitting upright on the hard seat a conscious effort.

Jonathan, too, seemed preoccupied, brooding, no doubt, about the two days that must still separate him from Arabella. Or was he feeling the awkwardness of this enforced
t
e
te
a
tete?
She certainly did. She was not going to forget again that she was in his service, not even a governess, but the lowest kind of nursemaid, and dependent on him for everything. And, worst of all, she had thrust herself upon him. Suppose Arabella or, worse still, little Sarah should take a dislike to her? Suppose, as Jonathan himself had suggested, she found she simply could not manage Sarah. What then? She had spoken boldly enough, back at York, of having money of her own, but the bills she had seen
him
paying along the way had taught her how little it was. Was he, perhaps, as he sat beside her, silent and withdrawn, wondering whether he had wasted his money, wishing he had never agreed to bring her?

She had turned on the hard seat to look at him sideways and try to read the expression of the closed, brown face that gave so little clue to what he was
thinking
. Now, disconcertingly, he turned from gazing at the hills ahead, and the piercing, sea captain
’
s blue eyes met hers directly. Absurd and irritating, to feel herself color under the calm, impersonal, and yet somehow questioning gaze.

Had he, too, felt that the silence was drawing out too long between them? Certainly, what he said was commonplace enough.
“
You will begin to see a change in the landscape, I think, when we
’
re over the mountains and into New England.
”

“
It
’
s changing already.
”
She, too, could play at general conversation.
“
It
’
s good to be in country that
’
s been cleared awhile, away from the forest, with those forlorn tree stumps left standing, and the pall of woodsmoke over everything. But will it be tidier in New England?
”
More than anything, so far, she had been impressed by this element of untidiness in the landscape. However grand the remoter prospect might be, the immediate neighborhood of the road seemed always to be marred by evidence of man
’
s carelessness. And it was the same in the towns. Even in Albany, the capital of New York State, pigs had roamed the streets at will.
“
They
’
re the best street-cleaners we have.
”
It had evidently seemed sufficient explanation to Jonathan Penrose.

“
Untidy?
”
Her comment had surprised him.
“
I suppose it is. Yes, I remember your English countryside: those neat hedgerows and landscaped parks. And how do you do it? By what
’
s as good as slave labor—starvation wages and soup doled out graciously by the lady of the manor. I tell you, Mrs. Croston, we
’
ve too much to do here, and to independent a citizenry for that kind of refinement. You must take us as you find us.
”

“
Of course.
”
Somehow a new warmth in his tone made it possible to ask the question that had been haunting her all morning.
“
But that
’
s not the point, is it? It
’
s how you take me. Mr. Penrose, I must ask you, have you regretted bringin
g
me? Will I do, do you think?
”